Total Word Count: 33,386

Rhoa slept deeply and often for the next few days. Sometimes Gran sat with her, sometimes Phane. Sarrie brought her bouquets of the flowers that were springing up in the garden, but that only made it more noticeable that the Vanguard hadn't spent more than a few minutes with her after that first morning. Rhoa tried not to let it bother her, but she frequently caught herself hoping to hear his footsteps on the stairs, or listening for his voice, or wondering how he was and what he was doing.

According to Gran, Rhoa owed the man her life. A great chasm had opened beneath the tower and swallowed most of it up, leaving only a pile of Keeper's stones and roofing timbers where it had been. When it became clear Rhoa had disappeared with the tower, Gran and Phane had nearly given up hope. It was Kry who refused to stop digging. When he finally dragged her out, she was barely alive, and they were afraid she wouldn't last the night. Kry removed the piece of metal from her leg, but the infection had already set in, and it had been touch-and-go for nearly three weeks while she fought her way back.

Phane said Ardusk was still standing, although only a few families were left intact after Rokstag led his followers up the hill. A few people had wandered like they had in the old days, their bodies discovered in the marsh the next day, their eyes and faces disfigured by their own hands. The rest were healthier than they had been in years. All of the survivors had the same story. A blinding light had risen from the fortress. A moment later the ground had shaken, as if the very earth were shifting, and then the light had come pouring down the hill in a brilliant, fiery wave, sweeping the Rot before it.

There was a large group of Vanguard monks in the village. They had arrived the day of the Warmoon, but true to Kry's word they hadn't attacked the fortress. Instead they began helping the villagers rebuild what the Rot had taken. Needless to say, the villagers' attitude toward the Vanguard had changed much in the days that followed, and Phane found it particularly interesting that no one was bothering to rebuild the Temple of the Divine Order even though three new Diviners had arrived a week after the Warmoon.

On the fourth morning after her fever broke, Rhoa woke early and lay looking up at the ceiling. She could hear laughter and conversation coming from the kitchen, and there were birds singing outside. She took a sniff of her smock and wrinkled her nose. She hadn't had a proper bath recently.

That was the last straw. She was tired of lying about.

She had just pushed herself to the edge of her cot when the sound of footsteps on the landing had her heart skipping a beat.

It was only Phane with her breakfast. He came through the door and stopped when he saw her, his eyebrows rising. "Ah. This is good." He moved quickly to set the trencher of food on the table by the door. "Wait just a minute before you run away," he called, already hurrying back down the stairs again.

Rhoa blinked, then sighed and sat back to wait. Her knee was throbbing just from swinging it over the edge of the bed. There wasn't going to be much running in her future. Gran had made that clear, as well as the fact that if she ever walked again, she owed that to Kry too. It was his strange, Vanguard doctoring that had saved her leg.

Phane came back a few moments later, but stopped before coming all the way in. He was hiding something behind his back, a teasing grin on his face. "Three guesses or it's mine, little sister."

"What are you, five?" Rhoa scoffed. "It's a pony. Obviously."

"Ooooh. So close."

Fighting a smile, she narrowed her eyes. "Is it... your brain?"

Phane gave her an over-somber, "Be serious."

"Mother's best rug beater?"

"Hah! That's three, I win," he announced, then pulled an absolutely surprised face when he brought a crutch out in front of him. "But what am I supposed to do with this?"

Rhoa shook her head as he gave up clowning and came toward her, limping slightly.

"Congratulations. You'll fit right in with all the rest of us gimps." He handed the crutch over with a smile. "We'll outnumber the rest of them soon."

"Thank you. I shall treasure it always," Rhoa whispered. She wasn't really joking. Needing a crutch meant she didn't need a casket. Things had taken on new perspective, lately.

Phane's grin widened to cheeky proportions as he brought the trencher over and sat down on the empty cot next to hers. "I'll let Kry know, then, shall I? Since he made it?"

Right on cue, Rhoa's face went hot.

Her brother bent to get a better look at her, blue-green eyes wide. "Are you – you are! You're blushing! Right there, I see it," he crowed, chuckling when she leveled an icy glare at him. "My unflappable little sister has got a thing for the leader of the Vanguard!"

"Don't be stupid," she muttered, looking away, although she couldn't very well deny the heat rushing through her ears.

Phane's laughter subsided and he grew still, regarding her through a thoughtful squint. She was glad when he didn't keep at it and offered the trencher instead, "Gran says you have to eat this whole bowl of gruel."

Slowly, giving him a sidelong glance, Rhoa reached out and took her breakfast, settling it on her lap. Her lips twitched. "I'll do my best, but the bowl might take a minute."

"You can do it. I have faith." He leaned back on his cot. "And when you're done, we can give the crutch a try."

Immediately, the thought that she might get to see Kry after all flashed through her head, and her cheeks pinked again. 

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